Strangers
by ZairaAlbereo
Summary: AU. Remus never went to Hogwarts. As a dark creature he is an outcast and even hunted. Sirius still mourns the death of the only family he has ever known. In this world they are strangers. That doesn't mean they don't need each other. A love-story. Slash.


**A/N: **I know what you'll say. With two WIPs running the last thing I should do is start a new story. Maybe you're right. But the thing is, when you're stuck you have to write something to get back in the game. So that's what I do. And, hey, I finally get to write romance!

This one will probably not be too long. I think under ten chapters. And, well, think of it as a seasonal thing. At least that's what jogger said I should say to sell you the idea. :D

Also, this is of yet un-beated. *shrugs*

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**Strangers**

_by Zaira Albereo_

**Chapter 1 - Ghosts and Monsters**

The cobblestones were slick with rain, glittering in the faint orange streetlights, but the rest of the world was darkness. A sharp wind was blowing through the narrow streets, carrying icy sheets of rain, and wet leaves whirled through the air wildly for a moment before they joined the litter on the ground, only adding to the air of forlornness. A sudden lightning send the facades of the looming old houses into sharp relief, the white light harshly illuminating the signs of decay where there had once been grandeur in a time long past and forgotten. Now the streets lay empty and abandoned and the thunder echoed in the silence like an ominous warning. It was a perfect night for the world coming to an end, but Sirius Black doubted that the world would go through with it.

It had been pouring down all day, and the temperatures had dropped to that most uncomfortable degree just slightly above freezing. By now every living soul had found a warmer and dryer place to be, and Sirius knew that there was such a place for him as well, that there was absolutely no logical reason to walk through the streets of London on a cold and miserable November night in a gathering thunderstorm. But here he was. Rain dripped from the hood of his cloak and the cold and wetness had long ago crept in and wrapped around his body.

His therapist said that he was punishing himself, and that it wasn't healthy, and that he needed to forgive himself. But how do you forgive yourself for letting your own family die? It had been five years, five long and lonely years, and Sirius had long given up on telling Dr. Altman about these nights. They were far and few between now. But today... today it was five years to the day that his life had crumbled before his eyes, much like the house from which ruins he had managed to salvage the one single thing that had made him go on. His boy. His son. His lifeline.

The thought alone made Sirius walk faster. St. Paul was striking midnight in the distance, and he should go home, should get a grip and stop wallowing in his own guilt and misery. He turned into a small street that lay in utter darkness. It was a shortcut, and suddenly Sirius was in a hurry. That's when he heard the moan.

''Gimme your money you shit-face!''

The dull sound of a body hitting something solid.

''You are just a worthless piece of scum... What are you jabbering?''

The sound of flesh on flesh and another low moan.

''Stan, come on, he's not worth it. He doesn't look like he has cash on him. Come on, Stan. Let's get outta here!''

''I don't care what he looks like. Gimme what you got, or I cut you open like a fish!''

There were laws. Act of Secrecy. Muggle Protection. Sirius had learned all about them in Auror training, but he didn't waste a thought on them now. His feet started running and his hand took hold of his wand on its own accord. The spell shot down the lane, illuminating it in an eerie light, and for a split second Sirius could see the shock and fear on the faces of the thugs when they were blown back by an invisible force. They landed sprawled on the ground with satisfying yelps of pain, but the shock didn't let them hesitate for long. Scrambling to their feet within seconds, they started running down the street as if they had all of hell's furies on their heels, only one of them daring a single look back before vanishing around the corner and out of sight. Their footsteps faded away quickly and the street lay once more in silence.

'Lumos!'' Sirius said quietly, holding up his wand, and a warm golden glow spread through the night and the rain, casting long, mysterious shadows. In one of those shadows, just a little further down the street, where the two thugs had stood a few moments ago, a man lay on the cobblestones. He wasn't moving.

For a moment Sirius stood frozen, his heart beating painfully in his chest. _The sprawled body of a man, his messy hair sticking up, his glasses askew, and his formerly warm brown eyes staring vacant into nothing._ Before he knew it, Sirius was moving, kneeling down in the dirt and the rain, pulling on the dark lump and turning him over towards him.

It was a man. Probably around Sirius' age, maybe a little older. There was the first glimmer of grey in the ginger hair and his pale, drawn face was lined with exhaustion under the dirt and blood and the forming bruise on his left cheekbone. But those weren't the things that really registered with Sirius. There was something else, something more important.

The man wasn't breathing.

_Trembling hands reaching for the still form, choking on nausea and horror and despair when he finds the skin cold under his touch._

Sirius was not a mediwizard. Medical spells needed to be precise to help instead of harm. The human body was a fickle thing. He needed to call a healer or an ambulance but the man _wasn't breathing. _And when Sirius hand found the shirt-covered chest under the ratty old cloak, he knew that this wasn't the only problem. He was too late.

_He raced as fast as he could on his bike. Unexplainable worry gripping him when Peter doesn't answer his calls, when James doesn't answer through the mirror. His eyes are watering from the cold wind and his cheeks are almost frozen. The tears are burning hot on them now. He was as fast as he could have been. As fast as possible. But he is too late. _

''No.''

The word is whispered, not even conscious, because there is no one to hear it. But his hands are strong and certain and fast, and he doesn't stop to think when he rips the strangers shirt open, when he bends his head back, clearing his air ways, when he slips his cold fingers into a slack mouth that has still the warmth of life. There is still life, he just has to grab it and hold onto it and not let it slip away.

His hands are placed on a stranger's chest. Pressure. Counting. Praying. They are cradling a stranger's head. Finding the right angle. Breathing. Begging.

There is no reaction. There is no reaction, and he won't accept that. He can't accept that.

He is bowed over the stranger's body, forcing his heart to do what it does not want to do on its own accord. Looking at the pale face. Suddenly so young and so vulnerable and so close to death, and it's not going to happen. Pressing his mouth over that of a stranger, and it doesn't feel like a stranger anymore. Because even though he doesn't know who this man is, doesn't even know his name, he has become important. Essential. He won't let him die.

''Breathe damn you! Breathe! Don't you dare dieing on me, do you hear me? I won't let you, not tonight!''

And then a cough. A sharp intake of breath. More coughing and the man's thin body trembling, trying to roll himself onto his side, towards Sirius. Shaking hands desperately grabbing, searching for something to hold on to.

''Sshhh. It's alright. You are safe. Just breathe. Take it slow, okay. Just breathe for now.''

Sirius hands were still running over the mans chest almost unconsciously. But he needed to confirm, needed to be sure that he had not allowed death to cheat him again. He was panting, and the water was dripping from his hair. They were both soaked to the skin.

And then the man blinked, his eyelids fluttering. His eyes opened, searching and finding Sirius. And even in the faint glow of his wand Sirius could see that they were a strange colour. Amber, with flecks of almost gold. For a long row of breaths they just stared at him.

''My name is Sirius. You... ehm... you were attacked, and then you... you stopped breathing. But it seems you got back the hang of it now.'' He let go of an uncertain laugh. ''I-... when you can stand up, we should get you to a hospital. Get you checked over. You have some nasty bruises there and-''

The man's eyes widened slightly, the black of his pupils drowning out the gold and amber.

''No hospital,'' he whispered. It was faint but urgent.

''I am no healer. It's a miracle I even got you breathing again. And you're beat up and soaked and-''

He faltered, when a hand suddenly found his. He felt the press of cool fingers on his own, stronger than he would have expected.

''Please.''

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly, but then he nodded. It was probably stupid and unreasonable, but it wasn't his call. Although it would be a cold day in a dragon's nest when he let this man jeopardize the life he had just managed to rip from death's cold and clammy fingers.

''Where do you live?''

Amber eyes flickered to what looked like a soaked Muggle duffel bag.

''I travel a lot.''

There was just enough of a hint of sarcasm in his voice for Sirius to understand immediately. He sighed, shaking his head.

''I live close by. You can get dry and warm there. Stay the night,'' he offered, helping the man up to a sitting position. He felt a strange reluctance to let go of his hand though. ''I think I might also have some salve for the bruises. If you are sure nothing is broken...''

''If it is, I can mend it,'' the man gasped with a little wheeze, confirming that his ribs were certainly bruised if not broken. ''Don't worry. I know how to work those spells.''

Sirius stared at him thunderstruck. The man raised his head with a brave attempt at a grin.

''What? You didn't wonder why I didn't question your creative flashlight? I thought you'd have realized. I am a wizard too.''

Sirius studied the bruised face for a long silent moment. ''Then why didn't you...?'' He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

The man shrugged, looking away. ''They got me in a bad moment.''

Sirius nodded. _No shit_, he thought. That much was obvious. Still, he would have thought a wizard could defend himself against two Muggles, even if they had been armed.

''Can you stand?'' he asked instead, deciding to let it go.

''I'd like to give it a try.''

It wasn't as easy as the man would have liked Sirius to believe, but they got to their feet, with Sirius helping the other man up and supporting him with an arm around his waist.

''Will you be able to walk? I could float you.'' His knees were obviously still quite wobbly.

''No. I can walk.''

It was pressed out through gritted teeth, but it was clear that the man was serious.

''Alright.''

They hobbled down the street, Sirius carrying the bag and half of the other man's weight.

''So... want to tell me your name?''

There was the tiniest flicker of uncertainty, the barest hint of hesitation, but then the man glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and his mouth curled into a reluctant smile.

''Remus. My name is Remus.''

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_A/N: So this is sort of a prologue, I guess. You interested? As always, I would be delighted to hear from you. x Zaira_


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